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Summary
As if Zoey wasn’t the kindest person she’d ever known, and everything she’d ever hoped for wrapped in one perfect package, just the right size to tuck under her chin and hold close.
Could she be blamed then, for craving that touch so much? For wanting so badly the way Zoey holds her right back? The dark look in her eyes when hands begin to wander? The way Zoey has never, ever left her anything other than boneless and so thoroughly, utterly satisfied.
She was greedy for it was the answer, and had never cared so less.
A collection about Rumi and touch, and a very eager (if slightly oblivious) Zoemira.